Martian Manycoats
by Em3
Summary: These are the Cronicals of one of my paries adventure


Chapter 1  
  
  
  
  
  
Martian Manycoats  
  
  
  
It was a clear crisp day in the town of Suolhuabob, which is an Elven city in the East Forest. Martian Manycoats was walking through the tall Brownwood trees of this fair village. If any of you have ever been to this enchanting town, you would see that Martian would be the strangest of things here, for he is a Hobbit.  
  
A Hobbit is a humorous little being that grows to the happy age of about 120 years. They live in Holes in hills, but these holes are not collapsing holes with sand, nor muddy, rooty holes that have insects crawling all about. No, these Holes have many comforts of home. Such as many food cupboards, because Hobbits like their food and have about six courses a day. Their Holes have multiple guestrooms for when they have guest come over, which happens often. They also have pipes for smoking smoke rings to pass the time.  
  
However Martian is an especially quick fellow at the age of twenty- nine years. He's got curly red hair on his head and his toes. (Hobbits do not wear shoes because the bottom of their feet are strong and hard, whilst the tops of the feet are covered with hair like on their head, to keep their feet warm.)  
  
Martian thinks to him self 'Martian, how in the name of hills did you get here?' as he looks at the passing Elves give him strange glances. Then Martian looks to his left and spots a piece of paper prodding out the top of an elf's pocket. He reaches over very silently and carefully to grab the paper and pull it out as the Elf walks away. He gets the paper away and unravels the withered piece of parchment to find that it was a map. The map had some old runes that went down the right hand side, of course he couldn't read the runes "How can I read this silly piece of paper, it's in a funny language," Martian says aloud.  
  
"Here let me read it." Martian hears from behind himself. He turns around to face an elf with lavender colored hair and eyes. She is wearing robes of the same color. "I have a knack for reading other languages." She says as she snaps it from his hands and unravels it. "Hmmm. Let me see. This might take a while lets talk it over a drink at Old Willow's Inn. Shall we." Said the headstrong Elf while turning on her heels and leads him off.  
  
"I guess I'll follow. You know, I didn't quite get your name?" Martian said to her as they were hurriedly walking in front of a magnificent willow with vines that crawled all over the sides of the tree. As they walked up to the willow Martian saw an arched wooden door with brass hinges, and upon the door it said Old Willow's Inn in gold lettering. There was a round window on each side of the door.  
  
"I never gave it." Replied the young Elf while she was pulling open the door. "Oh, I was only kidding," she looked down at the angered Hobbit's face, he didn't think it a joke to reply in that manner, "my name is Jean Photchja but you can call me Jean. Your name?" asked the curious Elf.  
  
" It's Martian Manycoats, but you can call me Martian. How 'bout that drink? Were should we seat ourselves?" He asked as they walked through the doorway into a brightly-lit room, which seemed to be a tavern.  
  
"We can sit here by the window. Waiter? Two drinks for me and the Mr. Manycoats here." The hobbit gave her another mad expression, because he specifically asked her to call him Martian.  
  
"Yes Miss. Photchja." And the waiter walked of into the kitchens in the far left of the Inn. Next to the door was a staircase that led upwards to a platform. On the back wall of the railed hallway were several doors.  
  
'Those must be the Inn rooms.' Martian thought to him self while looking around the large room that sat about fifteen, five person tables easy.  
  
"Hmm, lets see. It's definitely a very old map to have such runes on it," said Jean.  
  
"Well what does it say. Read it out loud." Said the hobbit  
  
"Not yet I must translate it first." Jean said when she puled out a quill from one of her pockets. She balanced the feather's writing tip on another piece of parchment then said, "WRITE!" to Martian's amazement the quill started to write, on it's very own. It looked as though she were reading the scroll to the quill while it wrote the words in another language that Martian could also not read. When she was finished the quill laid down on the paper as if it had not done anything at all.  
  
"I've translated the map to Elven, so that I may read to you what it says, it's a map of the Northern Mountains. Were did you get this?" Jean asked while handing over the map to Martian.  
  
"O, I found it. Were are these Northern Mountains located." He replied looking down at the piece of paper. "And what does it say about the mountains?"  
  
"It says..." 


End file.
